It ain't cool to be crazy over you
by MichaellaD
Summary: It's a good thing I don't care about kowtowing to public demand, because I'm pretty sure almost no one will care to read this. Simply put, this is Pike's story. The story of a really nice guy. (Hat trick part 1)


**A/N: Everyone here seems to hate Pike. I guess it's easy to hate someone when you don't know anything about them. Personally I kind of like Pike. I mean, his worst crime is wanting to be with Lisbon. Honestly, who can blame him? And everyone forgets that it takes two to tango. Why is no one vehemently angry at Lisbon?**

**Oh well, I guess no one comes to this site to be unbiased and reasonable. Unfortunately, _I_ do. I wrote this up because absolutely no one has told Pike's side of the story yet (if you don't count the ones where they turned him into Red John).**

**Everyone turns him into a ravening wolf when Lisbon breaks up with him. Now me, I'm an uncomplicated girl. I honestly think he stays calm and gentle up until and through to the end, so I wrote this that way. Probably mainly because no one else has.**

**Warning: Do not read this story if you do not want to feel a little bit bad for Pike.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist or It Ain't Cool To Be Crazy About You by George Strait.**

* * *

_I thought you and me were something special_  
_Thought you thought that way too_

Pike was grinning like an idiot. He was far too exuberant to wonder what he looked like to anyone passing by (rather like a modern development on a mad professor, beaming exstatically over an incredibly boring piece of paper).

At least he had a good excuse. The most beautiful woman in the world had just agreed to marry him, after all. Speak of the devil - there was his phone ringing. He almost dropped it in his rush to open it.

"Hey Teresa. What's up? Did your plane get hijacked?" he asked, grinning at his own wit.

"Marcus, I need to talk to you. I didn't get on the plane."

"Why? What happened?" He was truly concerned now.

In a few short sentences, she explained that she was going to be staying... to be with Jane.

"But why?" he asked for about the third time, completely baffled. "I thought you... you know, wanted to be... with me."

On the other end of the line, Lisbon closed her eyes tightly. She wished he would just blow up at her. It would be so much easier to take than this quiet bewilderment. "I'm sorry. I really am. It just wouldn't be fair either to you or to me. I have to be with Jane. He needs me, he really does. And I need him. I'm just sorry I didn't realize this before."

"So you're not coming?" He wasn't trying to be difficult. He really wasn't. He just couldn't grasp what she was saying.

"No. I never meant to hurt you, Marcus."

"I know," he said softly.

They hung up shortly after. Lisbon stared at her phone. She really wished he would have yelled at her. Anger she could cope with. This... broken acceptance, just made her feel guilty. She took a deep breath. Time to find Jane. She started to smile as she imagined the look on his face as she walked into the room. She got up briskly, all thoughts of Pike already almost gone.

Pike stared at his phone. He still wasn't sure he'd understood what had happened. How had he managed to so spectacularly misread the situation? He sat there like a lonely teddy bear. He had nowhere to go. He had no one waiting for _him_.

_Now I know that this ol' boy just ain't_  
_The best you think you'll ever do_

Pike stared gloomily into his beer. Why did everyone go to bars when they had a broken heart? Bars were the least cheerful place on the planet.

He'd been so sure that this time it was going to work out. He and Teresa had hit it off together right from the beginning, hand in glove. They got each other's sense of humour, got along great, had a similar line of work so that they understood each other but not exactly the same so that conversation wouldn't get boring - how could such a situation _not_ work out?

The way he'd felt when he was with Teresa - he hadn't felt that way in at least six years. Maybe eight. And she had definitely seemed to appreciate their time together.

It all came back to the same question: What had gone wrong?

In all fairness, Pike had to admit that Jane had certain advantages over himself. He always knew what the other person was thinking (or seemed, to anyway). Pike could see how some women might appreciate that.

His first girlfriend, grade seven, had repeatedly told him that he didn't pay any attention to her feelings. He'd had no clue what the heck she'd been talking about and she'd broken up with him after a month.

Now _that_ was an instance where mind reading could come in handy. (He'd always been wary ever since of females' unaccountable mood swings.)

Still, no one was like Jane. Teresa had to have known that it wasn't fair to measure by Jane's yardstick. Hadn't she have?

_It ain't cool to be crazy about you_  
_It ain't suave or debonair  
__To let you know I care, like I do_

His mother had always told him to be completely honest with girls. She'd assured him that, yes, that was what they really wanted.

His mother was a very smart woman, so he'd followed her advice. And it had worked. He'd never had any trouble getting girls. Like his mother had said they would, pretty girls flocked to men who expressed their feelings.

It got to be a habit. He never had to think about it anymore. If he found a girl attractive, he just said so, straight up. Why bother to hide behind pick-up lines when girls didn't need them?

He'd never understood why other men didn't adopt his method. Sure, maybe it wasn't really in vogue at the moment - okay, maybe it never had been - but as long as it meant you got the girl, what was the problem? By his reckoning, a man should give a girl what _she_ wanted, not what the man wanted to give her.

_It ain't smart to be so reckless with my heart  
__I should have known right from the start_  
_I'd end up like a fool; believe me, it ain't cool_

He had never tried too hard to figure out where a relationship was headed. He was content to let the chips fall where they may; to enjoy the ride, so to speak.

But now he was starting to wonder if there wasn't a tiny flaw in his system. His problem was that he fell too hard, too fast. There was no slow, gradual love with him. Nope, once he got started, it was all at once or not at all. Fortunately it didn't happen too often, but it was earth-shattering every time it did.

And Teresa Lisbon was definitely earth-shattering. A force of nature. A fairy queen... He shook his head. No use in thinking of her like that anymore. He knew from experience it just prolonged the agony.

_All of my friends, they tried to tell me_  
_What and what not to do_

He'd only told one person that he was planning to propose: Carl Montrose, his partner. His response hadn't been _quite_ what Pike had expected.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"What?" asked Pike, taken aback.

"How long have you been dating this woman?"

"Well, we started in-"

Montrose cut him off. "_Not long enough_!"

"I dated my wife for about that long before proposing," Pike pointed out, slightly offended now.

"Look what happened! No offense," Montrose added hastily.

"Our divorce had nothing to do with when I proposed," said Pike firmly.

Montrose sighed. "I've heard a bit about Teresa Lisbon. She's not the type for a big romantic gesture."

Pike shrugged. "Women don't care as much about that as you think. As long as they know they're the centre of your world, they're happy. All they're looking for is for you to show them that. That's why I'm proposing."

Montrose shook his head slowly. "I hope it works out for you, man."

Montrose had always been like that, Pike remembered. Never pulled his punches. He was a good friend.

_It took a while for them to sell me_  
_But finally they got through_

Boy, he missed Montrose. What he needed now was an understanding male, someone to punch his shoulder and tell him he was being a big sook, someone to snap him out of it.

Privately he even felt like he could deal with Montrose's inevitable I-told-you-so's. After all, events _had_ proved him to be right. Even though there was nothing quite as annoying on this planet as having to eat humble pie, Pike still wished for the welcome distraction his partner would provide. Too bad he couldn't conscience calling him in the middle of the night. No, waking up a friend to complain about a broken heart belonged exclusively to the female province.

As he tilted his mug of beer and watched the last few drops roll around, he wondered if possibly he should listen to Montrose the next time he offered advice.

___It ain't cool to be crazy about you_  
_It ain't suave or debonair  
____To let you know I care, like I do_

Obviously he wasn't enough for her. (Personally he didn't think anyone was, so that thought didn't sting as much as it might have.)

Teresa would be with Jane by now. He hoped with all his heart that it would work out. She really wanted Jane, obviously, and in a way she had never wanted him. But as long as she was happy, he could live with that.

He smiled murkily to himself. Some people might call him noble. All he knew was that it hurt like hang to love someone enough to let them be with someone else, and without making them feel guilty about it. He felt a flash of sympathy for Jane. It wasn't quite enough to break his shell of self-pity, however.

___It ain't smart to be so reckless with my heart  
____I should have known right from the start_  
_I'd end up like a fool; believe me, it ain't cool_

A man had to make his own decisions in life, after all. When it came right down to it, that was the only thing that reconciled him to this night's absolute disaster: the fact that it had been entirely his own doing. It didn't matter which way he twisted it, he just couldn't find it in him to blame Teresa. She couldn't help the fact that he'd instantly decided he wanted her and proceeded to place her in an impossible situation.

Maybe if he hadn't laid all his cards on the table so quickly. Maybe if he'd played a little hard-to-get. Maybe if he had held off saying "I love you" for a bit longer. Maybe if he hadn't proposed. Maybe if he'd listened a little harder when she called, obviously upset, and accepted his proposal.

Yes, the whole debacle was clearly his fault. He just hadn't paid enough attention to her, hadn't read the warning signs.

* * *

The barmaid announced last call. She looked sympathetically at the drunk man at the other end of the counter. He looked nice, dressed in an expensive suit. A broken heart, she decided expertly. Those were always the saddest ones. They were the ones who looked and felt like fools.

She picked up the phone and dialled him a cab.


End file.
